An uneven black comedy, E. Elias Merhige's Shadow of the Vampire (2000) depicts the filming of Nosferatu as a battle of wills between artist and monster. Despite some good gags and clever staging, it feels like a joke carried too far.F.W. Murnau (John Malkovich) is Germany's leading director in 1922. Eschewing studio-bound filming, he plans to shoot Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror on location in Czechoslovakia. Among his cast is Max Schreck (Willem Dafoe), who's cast as creepy vampire Count Orlock. Yet as misfortune plagues the production, it becomes clear that Schreck really is a vampire. And that he's made a pact with Murnau, who demands a perfect performance in exchange for the blood of leading lady Greta Schroeder (Catherine McCormack).
Given Merhige and writer Steven Katz credit: Shadow of the Vampire has an awesome premise. Billed as a horror movie, Shadow's more funny than frightening: Katz's script brims with dark humor, reframing Hollywood ego clashes as a duel with a monster. When Murnau chastises Schreck for killing his cameraman, the vampire wonders if the writer would make a more appropriate snack! Murnau's a pure artist, so wrapped up in direction that human lives scarcely matter. We're less reminded of Murnau than Werner Herzog, whose Nosferatu the Vampyre starred a real monster (Klaus Kinski).
Sadly, Shadow wears thin even at 92 minutes. Merhige's more serious content (tastes of Weimar decadence, Schreck's monolog about vampirism) seems perfunctory or wrong-headed. For an exercise in cinephilia Shadow brims with incongruities, like naming Eisenstein as Murnau's equal (three years before Eisenstein's first feature) or pervasive night shooting (watch Nosferatu, for God's sake). The finale, with Murnau shooting impassively as Schreck devours his crew, starts funny but drags on way too long. By then, Shadow becomes a party guest that doesn't know when to leave.
John Malkovich plays his arrogant director to the hilt. It's a flat characterization but Malkovich relishes the opportunity for scenery-gobbling, complete with goofy German accent. Willem Dafoe is much better, playing Schreck completely straight. Beneath remarkable make-up, Dafoe truly inhabits his character: tragic, terrifying and funny in turn. Catherine McCormack scores as the vain, dope-addicted starlet; Eddie Izzard enjoys trying to act opposite a real vampire. Cary Elwes and Udo Kier are wasted in peripheral roles.
At least Shadow of the Vampire delivers some laughs before unraveling. Cinephiles will relish the camp acting, in-jokes and silent movie stylings, including intertitles, fades and iris edits. Despite its modest virtues, Shadow proves anemic.
